A Rose by any other name
by Nubian Queen
Summary: A desperate, dying wish. A plea for help. When two people over a century apart seek a chance for change, will anyone answer? And what will happen if or when they do? Rose gets a second chance, but not the way you think..
1. Chapter 1

A Rose by any other name

 _Hello to all of you who are taking a moment to read this story! Just a few notes before we start:_

 _First of all, I have a horrible track record for finishing stories however, that will not be the case with this one as it is pretty much already done. I am posting it chapter by chapter in order to clean it up and fix any inconsistencies I find. I plan to post at least one chapter a week, possibly two, depending on my work schedule and how it allows me to time to edit._

 _Yes, this is a Cal/Rose story, although of a different type than usual. There are several twists to this story so I hope it keeps even the die hard Rose/Jack shippers entertained! I originally wrote two versions of this story so I may post the second one after this one if it get enough feedback. The whole reason I wrote them in the first place was because I was having such a horrible time finding Cal/Rose stories at all and then, finding Cal/Rose stories that met the standards of what I wanted to read. So I decided to write the story I wanted to read for myself._

 _No, I do NOT think Cal was an evil, abusive, fill-in-the-blank whatever fiance. I have a whole theory about it and apparently so does somebody else cuz the wrote an article about it. If you are interested, here's the links:_ /4-reasons-rose-stayed-cal-titanic/

 _and_ /movies/2017/09/20/titanic-billy-zane-cal-defense/

 _Yes, this is a mature rated story. I try to keep it classy though. I don't like reading porny dialogue or descriptions myself so I write it as if I was the only one reading it. So, if you are underage, stop now before you are scarred for life._

 _Also, I don't own Titanic, either the ship or the movie, nor do I own any of the characters real or imagined and I damn sure don't own Billy Zane cuz if I did I wouldn't be bothering to write this, I'd be **livin'** la vida_ _sexual cachonda loca_ _!_

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2012 Milwaukee, WI

"Damnit, Shishkabob!"

Rose McAdams fought the urge to stomp her foot in a childish tantrum at the mess her black and white and VERY spoiled cat had made in her kitchen as she tripped her way through the doorway. Kitty litter and food were strode across the tile, white dusty footprints she really didn't want to know the origin of danced merrily across the floor, a chair and the dinette's glass tabletop. Some shredded something-or-other had pride of place on the countertop next to her coffeemaker. Rose gave a wail of distress when she saw it was the package of cheese croissants, one of which she had been hoping to have as a quick out-the-door breakfast...along with some much needed coffee.

And she was already running late for work.

Granted, being a librarian was not exactly the most demanding work but she took a particular pride in running things a certain way and always having the doors open when the hours sign said they were was part of that.

She sighed gustily and finished putting in her earrings as she danced around the mess to the coffeemaker and started a large travel mug brewing. Her Keurig had been her present to herself last Christmas and was well worth the expense. She cast a weather eye out the window and noted the rain. She hated driving in the rain. Especially when the weather was this cold. It turned it into a sleety, slushy mix that could become snow or could just stay a straight up nasty mess.

And she was running late.

With a determined sigh, she scooped up Shish, who was nonchalantly licking his paw and dropped him in the laundry room and shut the door. She knew it would aggravate him to be confined there for the day but she didn't want to come home to anything else she had to clean up...or anything else destroyed. He'd been behaving all pissy ever since she had him fixed a month back.

Maybe she could stop by the store after work and pick up a peace offering…

She raced back into the bedroom, grabbed her blazer and overcoat and took a final check in the dresser mirror. Satisfied that it was a good as it was gonna get, she pressed two fingers to her mouth and then to the picture on the bedside table.

"See you later, hun."

As she exited the bedroom to get her purse, coffee and head out the door, she thought a moment on what it said about her that the only relationship she could manage to keep for any length of time was with a man in an old picture.

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As much as she hurried she was still nearly 25 minutes late for work, not that there was anyone there banging down the door for admittance but still..

As Rose got out of the car and headed toward the door she thought it would be surprising if she saw anyone at all today, with the way the rain was coming down.

She would have to keep a weather eye out. As cold as it was, it could turn to snow anytime and she hated driving in ice and snow.

Finally in, she put her coat, purse and galoshes away, slipped on her work shoes and prepared, coffee tumbler in hand, to start her day.

If anyone had told Rose 10 years ago that she would still be living in her hometown and running the library 10 years later she would have laughed in their face. Then, she had had a burning desire to leave and see as much as she could see. A scholarship in hand and a sense of adventure brimming inside her she had only made it thru her first semester of college when she came home for Christmas break to the news that her mother had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of brain cancer. What followed were the worst 18months of her life. An only child with a father she could barely remember, the bulk of her mother's care fell to her. Dad had left when she was six and she had only spoken to him a handful of times and there were no relatives to lean on, her closest one being a distant cousin in Cincinnati she had never met. Her mother had tried to protest her leaving school but she refused to hear it. Her mom had always been there for her, she would be there now for her mom and no amount of argument could change it.

However, at 18, she had not been prepared for what it would be like to watch her mom, her only real family, slowly deteriorate and die in spite of every treatment they tried.

Because her absence extended past the allowed time, she lost her scholarship. She hid the fact from her mother, in the days before she lost her lucidity, by saying they granted her an extension.

And she only let herself cry about it, and everything else, at night in her closet with a pillow to her face.

At the funeral, she had been surprised when her mom's boss had come up to her and said she would like to speak with her in a few days when she was feeling up to it.

She had nodded numbly at the time, promptly forgetting about it until the lady had called her a few weeks later and asked if she could meet.

That's when she offered her the position of librarian that her mom had held.

It was an incredibly generous offer. Rose had helped her mom on and off in the library practically her whole life. She knew it as well as she knew the house she grew up in, as it was practically an extension of it she had spent so much time there.

To say she was shocked would have been an understatement. Pam, the county overseer for the library, had said she could have a few days to think about it but Rose had required little time. With no money and having used most of what they did have on medical expenses, and now no college prospects, she had taken the offer.

She had always thought that she could save enough to take a few classes at a community college, maybe get her required stuff done with before she tried for a four year. But the years rolled by and there was always more bills and not enough money and so here she was. It wasn't a bad life, but it was a far cry from the adventure and romance she had once dreamed of.

Here, the most adventurous thing she did was tick off her cat and as for romance? Well, there had been a few semi-serious dating escapades but, truthfully, there just wasn't anyone here that matched up to the ideal she had in her head.

Rose had always been a dreamer and a fantasy lover. She knew it. She comforted herself about it with the thought that she was ruthlessly pragmatic otherwise.

Growing up around books as she had, and with a mother who had a devoted love of classics, she supposed she had rather ruined herself for getting a guy. After all, what modern guy that tried to hit on her with cheap pick-up lines at the Safe-way checkout could compete with Mr. Darcy's cool wit and polished manners? Why would she want some beer-swilling sports fanatic when she dreamed of dancing the night away in a handsome stranger's arms?

It sucked, but it was what it was.


	2. Chapter 2

A Rose by any other name

 _Okay, I couldn't resist! Here is Chapter 2!_

Rose puttered thru her morning, shelving books, sending out late notices and catching up on computer work. Since there was no one there but her, she turned the radio on to listen to music and to keep a check on the weather, which had been growing steadily worse. The rain had turned to snow and she was slightly worried about icing on the roadways.

She ate lunch and worked on reading a new book they had just gotten in, a historical novel set in the early part of the 20th century. She loved that time period. She often referred to it in her book blog as "the last era of graciousness and gentility". It was while she was eating that the radio announcer had come on, warning of several road closings as the weather worsened. She decided to only stay open another hour, closing at 4 instead of 5, in case any after schoolers needed to come in, and made sure the change was posted on the library website.

She had one university student straggle in about 20minutes later, desperate for internet since their's went down so they could finish a paper. She helped them out, to effusive thanks, and sent them on their way with admonitions to be careful on the roadways.

It was beginning to look pretty bad as she watched them leave out the front windows so she hurried back toward her desk to start getting ready to leave herself. After getting everything set just in case she didn't get in tomorrow, she pulled on her galoshes and coat and headed out.

It was nasty but she had seen it this bad before. She carefully made her way to the grocery and picked up a few necessities, not the least of which was a nice cut of fish for Shish (she laughed to herself over the silly rhyme all thru the checkout) and then headed home again.

It was much slower going now. In just the short amount of time she was in the store, the storm seemed to have doubled down in intensity. She inched her way thru town and closer to the more outlying areas where her house was located.

It was as she was sitting at the last red-light before hitting the outskirts that her phone rang. She checked the light, still red, so reached down to see who was calling.

She never saw the truck that was trying to beat the yellow, skidded on ice and came barreling straight toward her.

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 _Rose. My name is Rose McAdams_ , she thought.

She listened to the noise around her, steady beeps and rushing and became suddenly aware of crushing pain.

Rose tried to remember what had happened, but couldn't even get a flicker of memory.

She heard someone calling to her and then a bright light in her eyes. Someone was holding her eye open and shining a light. She could see bright blue eyes and heard a male voice cry out to someone, "Shit! We're losing her! We gotta move faster!"

The pain was agonizing and Rose wanted to cry but she couldn't move, her body felt lifeless and cold. Her spirit on the other hand, was gaining strength and burning brighter and brighter within her. It felt as if everything within her was preparing for a great burst, as if to take flight.

 _No! NO!_ she thought desperately. _I want to live! There's so many things I didn't get a chance to do!_

With the last strength left in her she sent her plea winging outward,

 _PLEASE, GOD, SOMEBODY, I WANT TO LIVE!_


	3. Chapter 3

A Rose by any other name

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Rose slowly opened her eyes. The light seemed different, as did the bed. She didn't feel any pain but couldn't quite remember why or why she thought she should be. She heard a shifting noise beside her and then a masculine voice call her name.

She turned her head…and grinned muzzily at the apparition before her.

"Oh, its you."

It was the man in her picture. Only he was real and alive and oh so gorgeous it nearly hurt to look at him.

Damnit. she was hallucinating. Or dreaming. But what a lovely dream…

His lips quirked in a faint grin. "Yes, it is me. Were you expecting someone particular?"

"I don't know. God? Santa Claus?"

He gave a brief crack of laughter, eyes crinkling in the cutest way.

This was a great dream... and he had the prettiest eyes.

He grinned even wider, "Why thank you, sweet pea."

She grinned drunkenly. Had a rather sexy grin too…

"I'm beginning to wonder if you didn't hit your head a bit harder than the doctor thought…although I can't say I don't appreciate your kind sentiments. Rather comforting really."

She reached out and lightly caressed his cheek with her fingers. The oddest expression crossed his face as she did but he captured her fingers, pressing a kiss to them before tucking her arm back under the coverlet.

"You should try to rest a bit longer. Obviously you need it. I'll call your maid."

He moved as if to leave and she shot her hand out again, capturing his wrist.

"No! Don't leave… please. I don't want to wake up just yet.."

He froze as soon as she touched him, looking down at her hand and then up into her eyes with the most searching expression. He swallowed, hard, then nodded.

"Very well."

She tugged until he acceded to her unspoken request and sat gingerly upon the bed beside her. She rolled to her side, took a better hold of his hand and closed her eyes.

She could feel him very gently stroking her head with his other hand.

She kissed the fingers of the hand she had custody of and tucked it and her own up near her face then sighed.

"That feels nice."

"Yes, it does," he said in a slightly strained voice.

She sighed again. "I wish you could stay."

"I'll stay as long as you want."

She frowned slightly at that, sleep already pulling at her.

"No, the good dreams never last long enough."

He was silent a bit as he sat there, watching her as she slept, her hand still wrapped snugly around his own.

It was a long moment before he whispered softly, "No, they never do."


	4. Chapter 4

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Cal sat in front of the fireplace in the sitting room, glass of brandy in hand. He knew it was a bit early for it, but he needed it after the events of the morning. It was only just half past 1pm and Rose was still sleeping. The doctor had assured them earlier that it was just a faint, nothing serious, as was the bump she had received on her head when she fell.  
They had just entered the ship from the gangway when it occurred. It had happened so fast he couldn't quite catch her before she hit. He knew it was an accident but he still felt rather guilty for that. And so, he had sat, watching to see that she did, indeed, wake up.

Ruth, having been assured of her daughter's health by the doctor, had retired to her stateroom.

He took another sip of his brandy.

And her behavior earlier. So very strange, at least for Rose. She was never that candid…or that affectionate. Always so very cool, with that sharp edge of sarcastic wit that he found fascinating and so very… challenging. Although it could be quite taxing at times as well. Perhaps if she tempered it with a bit of that humor she had also shown earlier when her guard was obviously down, it wouldn't grate so much. He could never quite tell just how serious she was with her scathing comments.  
He wondered if the doctor had perhaps dosed her with laudanum or some other such thing to make her behave so strangely.  
Again though, he couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed it. It comforted his ego quite a bit to know that she thought those things of him. And that she apparently desired his presence when she obviously did not feel quite up to par. He had seriously been beginning to wonder if she harbored any kinder feelings for him at all. He had sat there, by her side, simply watching her sleep for quite some time before he reluctantly extracted his hand from hers and left. He had sent her maid in to sit with her then until she woke. Then he had retired to where he was now to ponder a bit.  
He understood that she was still quite young and untried in the ways between men and women. It had bothered him at first, the idea of marrying someone so much younger, Rose had only had her 17th birthday 5 days ago. However, he was running out of time. He had tried to lobby for a longer engagement but his father had been quite explicit the last time they had communicated. If he wanted to inherit, he married before his next birthday, which was only 3 months away.

Damn the old bastard.

It galled him that his father could still manipulate him like he did but what choice did he have? Nathan held the reins of all the businesses and bank accounts and, while Cal was his only legal heir, he knew his father and his obsessive and controlling ways…the obdurate ass would turn it over to an investor board for spite if Cal refused to comply.  
Cal closed his eyes and breathed deep and slow though his nose. Thoughts of his father could always put him on edge. Nathan had wanted him wed long ago but it had been one form of rebellion he could actually act on as Nathan demanded to approve the candidate and Cal made sure none would pass muster. It wasn't that he didn't want to wed…he had just wanted to piss his father off more.  
And in truth, he really had found no one who interested him. Nevertheless, He was now 30years old. Well and time for him to be "setting up his nursery" as his sister had commented. And he wasn't unwilling… he simply hadn't found anyone who he liked well enough to consider spending the rest of his life with. All the women he came into contact with were simpering sycophants, willing to do anything to wed his money.

Until Rose. He had believed Rose was a perfect candidate. The attraction he had felt for her was undeniable. She was a strikingly beautiful woman. However, he had seen, met and flirted with many beautiful women. It was practically a sport amongst their set. But with Rose there was more. When they had first met, she had seemed quite warm and personable. He had been delighted to find someone who could carry on a conversation about something more than the latest gossip and their newest gown. Subsequent meetings had continued to prove that Rose was intelligent, biddable, with a rapier wit and some similar interests as himself. And the most unusual thing, she had seemed utterly uninterested in his money…or in throwing herself at him. It had been a completely new experience for him, to have a beautiful, marriageable female show absolutely no interest in pursuing him. It had intrigued him, challenged him…and Cal never could resist a challenge.  
Her lack of fortune was an unfortunate circumstance but not a terrible hinderance as he had more than enough and her family name was an old one and well connected. He was sure that, given enough time, she could become at least fond of him. He was already quite fond of her. She made him remember what it felt like to be that young again. There were times he felt as ancient as Methuselah but, when he was with her, she seemed to remind him of his more carefree days.

At least, in the beginning. Lately though…he sighed and took a drink.

When his father had gotten word of whom he was spending time with, and her credentials, the rest, as they say, was history.

However, her continued coldness toward him, even now that they were, for all intents and purposes, practically wed, had concerned him. Try as he may, she had never shown the least inclination toward wanting anything to do with him physically. He was not unaware of the constraints society placed on women, particularly the general ignorance of young ladies, especially of their class, as to the more physical aspects of relationships,. As she was a well bred, unmarried and again, so very young female he hadn't expected much, maybe just the merest softening of her demeanor when he was near, a flirtatious smile, a brush of the hand…something to indicate she might desire him as well. But she always maintained that cold, slightly haughty demeanor that had at first intrigued and then challenged him. It couldn't be denied that its continued and unfaltering presence had begun to worry him.  
He had no wish for a frigid, cold wife. One who tolerated his presence and performed her "duty" but only for the benefit of his money and position. He had seen the misery that caused and had no wish to partake in it, thank you very much. He supposed he could do like many other men of his station and simply take a mistress for warmth and affection but…the fact of the matter was that he wanted what his sister Evie had.  
She and Stephen, her husband, adored one another. It had been obvious practically from the moment they met that they were smitten with one another. He had teased her a great lot about it but, secretly, had been rather envious of their regard for one another. He loved Evie and was happy that she had found someone who appreciated her and could love her but he still found himself jealous of it at times.

They had recently had their first child, a boy, Joseph Edward Frick. Stephen had wired him a month ago with the news. His obvious delight over the birth of his son and pride in both the child and Evangeline had been evident, even over the impersonal means of telegraph.  
And he had been happy for them, truly. It was just…he wanted to be that happy as well. He knew such happiness as they had was all but beyond him, he simply wasn't as likable as Evie, or Stephen for that matter. Evie had been the pampered only, and much beloved, daughter. He was the oldest, and only, son. It was to him that all the responsibility would fall for his father's empire…and his father made sure he was raised to continue it.

The long and short of it was Rose had been the only female he had met that he could remember that treated him as something other than an extension of his money and it endeared her to him. He had therefore found it quite easy to indulge her whims, of which there seemed to be many. He shook his head and huffed a laugh then took a drink. Like her godawful paintings. He eyed the box containing them that she had requested be put in the stateroom. Because of the accident earlier, she had not had a chance to drag them out. He was sincerely hoping she forgot they were there.  
Some of them, he had to admit, were not that bad…and then there were the others.

They looked like children's finger paintings of particularly bad dreams.

He shuddered slightly. Yes, he could well do without having to stare at those all the way across the Atlantic.


	5. Chapter 5

chapter 5

 _So, it's beginning to look like Sunday will be my day for chapter posts as it is currently the day when I have the least to do._

 _I want to send a big Shout out and Thank You to you who have taken the time to read and review this story. Reviews are the only payment we fanfic writers receive and they are always greatly appreciated. Now, without further ado…._

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Rose had been having the strangest dreams. As she gradually came to, she rolled over to her side, reaching out to pet Shish who liked to curl up beside her when she slept.

No Shish though.

She sighed and stretched over onto her back and opened her eyes.

That was not her ceiling.

She cocked her head, still half asleep as she stared at the strange and ornate ceiling above her. _Was she still asleep and dreaming?_

"Well, miss, about time you waked! You've missed ever so much!"

Rose snapped her head to the side to see the face of a young woman in what looked like an old fashioned servant's dress smiling at her.

Her arms still over her head from her stretch, she ever so slightly moved to pinch herself.

It hurt.

She pinched harder.

It still hurt….and she still saw the woman standing beside her bed.

Moving slowly, she pushed herself up in the bed, absently noting the fine coverings as her hand slid over them.

"And you are," she asked cautiously.

The young woman frowned, "I'm Trudy, mum, your maid," her eyes grew large and round, "oh heavens, you must've injured yourself worse than we thought! I'll go ring for the doctor!"

"NO," Rose yelped, putting out a staying hand towards the maid, who had turned to exit the room.

"No," she said in a calmer voice, "please, I'm fine, I'm sure I'll be fine. I'm just a bit…disoriented."

The maid reluctantly lowered her hand and made her way back to her mistress' side.

"Well..if you're sure…"

Rose forced a smile. "Yes, I'm sure. I don't wish to alarm or worry anyone."

The maid, Trudy smiled. "For sure and they were all jittery enough earlier, what with you fainting dead away like that!"

Rose perceived this as a wonderful opportunity to find out just what the hell was going on.

She smiled again, this time a little less forced. "Could you tell me what happened? I don't really remember…" she gave her best beseeching look to the girl, with the biggest puppy eyes she could manage. She HAD to find out what was going on.

As the maid's eyes lit up she sat down in the chair beside Rose and began to tell her all that had occurred, apparently that morning, as they were boarding the ship.

Rose mind worked feverishly, even as she tried to keep pace with what the young woman was saying.

She let her gaze wander around the room, taking in the details of the lavish decor. Obviously meant for wealthy travelers. She took a slow, deep breath in to settle her nerves. Dear Lord, it even _smelled_ ritzy! She could also catch that faint tang of sea air that came only from being near the ocean. Many family trips to the coast in her childhood had cemented that memory into her olfactory senses. In point of fact, all her senses were telling her that what she was experiencing was, indeed, quite real.

She was finding it simultaneously difficult to believe and yet all too easy to consider that, somehow, she had gone back in time. The last thing she remembered was pain and a brilliant light and praying frantically to live. She had felt a great sense of lightness and realized that her substance had changed. Then she was standing upon a bridge that seemed to be made of crystal, only clearer and glittering in multi-faceted hues of color she had never imagined.

"Please, I don't want to die," she pleaded, knowing there was Someone within that dazzling light listening to her argument.

"There's so much I haven't done! I've never been in love or worn a beautiful dancing dress or planted my own flower garden or had children..please…" she cried plaintively.

Just then she heard another voice crying out strongly, "Please..God! I can't bear to live like this! I can't! Please…oh.. God, help me! Somebody…please!"

There had been an endless moment of peace and then a wordless answer from the entity within the light.

 _I have heard._

And then she was flying, tumbling thru brilliant, iridescent light to land with a gentle whump into a sleeping body. It had felt so wonderful to be in her body again, so right and natural that she hadn't questioned it, simply opened her eyes.

It was then she began to question whether she really had awakened because before her had stood the man in the picture that had pride of place on her bedside table. She knew then she was simply having some kind of lucid dreaming…moment or something.

The picture had been one she had picked up at an antique store years back. Just a simple, beautifully framed, antique photo of a man standing in a garden at what looked to be a party but she had to have it. Something about it had called to her. So she had bought it, took it home and studied it. There was no name or identifier on it. Just a beautifully dressed man from somewhere around the turn of the 20th century she imagined. But he had been so handsome and his intense eyes stared out of the photo as if looking right at her.

She suddenly focused on the here and now when one word caught her attention.

"Wait. Did you say Titanic," she asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, miss. I was just saying as how it was when the Titanic was pulling out of Southhampton. The boat whistles are so _loud_ , mum!"

"Yes, yes I'm sure they are but do you mean to say we are on board the _Titanic_?"

The little maid tilted her head, "Why yes, of course miss. You weren't so bad as the doctor thought ye should be unable to journey. Tis a pity you missed us pulling out of port but there still is ever so much to see," she ended on an anxious upswing, as the expression crossing her mistress' face was quite alarming.

Rose blanched in utter shock. _Oh. my. God! I am on the freaking Titanic!_

She must have looked truly worrisome because the maid jumped to her feet.

"Oh, miss! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" she made as if to go and fetch help but Rose grabbed her wrist swiftly.

"It's alright, I'm alright. I was just, shocked for a moment. I, ah…didn't know I had missed so much."

The girl eyed her warily but eased back. Rose loosed her grip on her wrist and pondered within herself quickly.

Should she take this person into her confidence and tell her who she really was? Would she even believe her? _But she must do something!_ She needed help to navigate this world she suddenly found herself thrust into and instinctively knew she couldn't confide in just anyone…but for some reason, as she looked into the maid's earnest face, she felt she could trust _her_.

Decision made, she leaned forward and called forth the most sincere look she could muster. Reaching for Trudy's other hand, she looked the girl in the eye and said, "I have something to tell you that you may not believe but, I swear by whatever is holy, is truth…"


	6. Chapter 6

_Here is our next installment! I hope you who are reading this are as exited as I am! If you are enjoying this, please comment and let me know! All comments and constructive criticism is appreciated!_

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Rose sent Trudy out to reassure the others that she was feeling much improved and to get the lay of the land, so to speak, then sat back to ponder all that had recently transpired.

While Trudy had been, rightfully, quite disbelieving at first, she gradually came to believe what the young woman who looked like her mistress but wasn't told her was indeed the truth.

"Where do you think it is our Rose has gotten to," she had asked at one point in confused horror.

"I cannot truly say, but I suspect she may be in my body, in 2012."

Trudy's eyes had grown large as saucers.

"Glory! Imagine, 100 years in the future," she face dropped a bit. "Do you suppose she'll be alright? Will your people be suspect of her?"

Rose gave a small, sad shrug.

"I haven't any people and I live alone. If she is as clever as you say, I'm sure she'll be alright."

Rose was actually sure of no such thing but saw no reason to worry the poor girl.

It seemed to work as she let loose a small giggle and said, "Well, my miss has always wanted to strike out on her own, I imagine now she will have the chance!"

Trudy could not have said why it was she believed such a outlandish tale. Her mother would have said it was the Irish in her, making her prone to believing in the fantastical. Trudy just knew that there was something indeed quite different about her young mistress and really, whether it was just the hit to her head making her believe she was a different person or she actually was…well..how was she to know? She spared a thought for where her true mistress could be, if such a thing were possible, and decided it was beyond her ken. She said a prayer to herself, an old Irish one for warding away evil her gran had taught her and decided to let the Lord sort it out.

It may have been simple reasoning, but it was enough for her to be going on with. And truly, whoever-it-was didn't seem to be terrible…

As for Rose, she could not have asked for a better font of information that Trudy. The maid had been quite forthcoming with what knowledge she had.

She had reeled in shock when she learned the Rose she replaced was only just turned 17. She remembered 17, it was braces and bad hair and angst and rampaging hormones and zit cream hopeless crushes and she had _hated_ being a teenager and… Rose took a deep calming breath.

Apparently, it meant a world of different in this time.

Rose had been able to put quite a few of the empty puzzle pieces she had more or less into place. The most telling response she had gotten was when she inquired about her relationship to Cal. Trudy had told her they were engaged to be married, quite soon actually, almost as soon as they returned to America. It was when she started to ask about the particulars of their relationship the little maid faltered.

"Trudy, I must know so as to be prepared, how, well… _close_ are your Rose and Cal?"

Rose raised her eyebrows, trying to emphasize what she meant without actually spelling it out. Fortunately the girl seemed to understand, considering the bright blush that suddenly painted her cheeks.

"Oh! Miss…I..I..I'm sure I don't know..a..at least..not fully.."

"Trudy, anything you do know would be helpful to me. I don't know how permanent this change is. I would hate to do or say something that would harm their relationship."

Trudy, still blushing and unable to look her in the eye,took a deep breath, closed her eyes and seemed to pull herself visibly straighter as she tried to gather her composure.

She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and then opened her eyes.

"I know that my mistress does not care for her fiancé, although I cannot say why. He's a handsome one and a gentleman. I have never seen them argue or him mistreat her or be in anyway unkind to her. He indulges her something fiercely, buys her all kinds of things, for which she hardly seems appreciative," she looked down, twisting her hands in her lap with anxiety at this seeming disrespect of her mistress then looked up and continued. "I see him looking at her sometimes, you know, the w..way a man looks at a lady he w..wants," here she dropped her eyes again as a blush began once more to steal up her cheeks and she had to take a deep breath. Then she looked up and continued, "I'm young miss, but I've seen a few things, before I was with your family, and I know how tis tween a man and his sweetheart. I don't know whether they've been, well…intimate…but I would say, from what I know of my mistress and how she behaves that either they have and she did not care for it or they have not but he would greatly like to." she ended on a rush.

Rose had ceased that line of questioning then so as not to unduly stress the poor girl but it lead to some interesting questions of her own…ones she could not answer until she actually got up and started interacting with her surroundings.

A few things she did know: she was on a ship headed for certain disaster with no way off, therefore she was going to have to start making some plans and making them soon. She was in the body of another woman with no idea how long she might be there. And the last was almost as troubling as the first; she now had a name to go with the face she had gazed at and wondered about and, yes, _dreamed of_ , for nearly four years. The face of the man in the portrait by her bed.

Caledon Hockley.


	7. Chapter 7

_Sorry for the delay! Hope all those who celebrate had a lovely July 4th! Now on with the show!_

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Cal shot to attention when the maid came out of the room. She curtsied and dropped her eyes shyly then told him that Rose was awake and she had asked her to let both he and her mother know she was feeling much better and, as she was rather hungry would they care for lunch?

Cal was glad to hear it and told the girl to help her mistress dress and he would inform Mrs. Bukater of her daughter's state. He tossed back the rest of his drink and made his way through the adjoining state rooms to the door of the elder lady. He knocked and was ushered in by Ruth's maid, a stout, middle-age woman who had apparently been with her forever. Ruth was writing at a small desk but turned as he entered to grace him with a small smile. It reminded him of Rose at her coolest and he had no trouble imagining where she had gotten that particular ability.

"Rose is apparently recovered and is requesting to have luncheon. Would you care to join us?"

"Oh, good. I _had_ wondered if she were going to sleep the afternoon away," she commented laconically. "Yes, thank you Cal, luncheon sounds lovely."

"Very well. I shall await you both in the sitting room," he inclined his head and turned to leave, feeling as regally dismissed as if he'd just spoken to a queen.

He truly wondered how she did that.

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Rose felt rather as she imagined Charlie must have the first time he saw the chocolate factory. Everything was overwhelming and felt rather unreal.

Although the pain of getting laced into a corset was real enough.

Trudy had returned from her little mission and promptly set about helping her get ready. Rose had to admit, she was deeply grateful for the help, she was too overwhelmed to even begin picking out clothing. As she had stepped over to the mirror she was arrested by the sight before her. She couldn't quite remember but she knew with certainty that she had looked nothing like the figure reflected back by the glass before her. She could almost see her previous self, standing beside this stranger she had become.

In that other life, she had been barely average height, slender and moderately pretty. This woman was statuesque with lush,hourglass curves. Her hair had been a rather dirty blond and straight. This woman bore long, lusciously curling dark red tresses, and the kind of creamy clear skin most women slaved for all enhanced by a beauteous face. The only thing similar was their blue eyes.

Rose stared at the reflection a long time, until she heard the maid bustling in and around, laying out garments and prepping wash water.

She was grateful for the girl's mindless chatter as she tried to compose herself.

She, in that other life that was feeling more and more like a dream, remembered having been an avid reader. She especially loved reading about history and historic novels. It seemed so grand and romantic.

And she could not deny that the idea of actually getting to wear the gorgeous gown and other things that Trudy was laying out for her was something of a dream come true. As was the idea of actually _seeing_ and _participating_ in history!

And while she was beyond terrified of being on the Titanic, knowing what she knew, she also was deeply exited at the idea of getting to see firsthand something so awe inspiring.

She was also worried about interacting with the others…most especially her, or other Rose's fiancé. Her heart fluttered ridiculously at just the thought.

Would everyone know she wasn't their Rose? Would he? Should she try to act like her? But that was ridiculous because she didn't even know her much less how she behaved and would she be able to remember all the proper manners and..

Rose stopped herself and tried to take a deep, calming breath. It was rather difficult with the corset but she managed. She closed her eyes and started repeating to herself _You can do this, You_ can _do this._

"You'll be fine miss, don't worry. If you feel out of yer depth just put a hand to your head and say you feel faint and they'll all bring you back her straightaway," Trudy said comfortingly as she put the finishing touches on Rose's hair. She then stood back, considering her mistress carefully and, satisfied with her work, handed her a small handbag.

She weakly smiled her thanks and then, gathering her courage in hand, stepped out of the room.

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Cal wasn't sure what it was, but something was different about Rose.

He sat contemplating it as he watched her converse with an older gentleman over lunch. She seemed…softer, somehow.

He had first noticed it when they were walking to lunch. He had offered his arm, as usual, and she had taken it, also as per usual. However, the bright smile she gave him was different. And she had wrapped both hands around his arm, whereas usually it was only one and she stayed as far from his person as propriety, and walking space, allowed. This time she was as close as propriety allowed. It had shocked him, but not unpleasantly. He didn't say anything, reluctant to bring it to her notice in case it made her shy away from him once more. They had strolled their way to the dining area as she looked about her like a child at the fair. It was slightly odd but again, not unpleasantly so and he was pleased she seemed to be finally impressed with the ship he had been exited about boarding ever since he had purchased the (exorbitantly priced) tickets.

There had also been a fine edge of tension about her for weeks now that seemed to have disappeared. She truly seemed more like her gay, personable self than she had since before their engagement.

It was when they went to order that he really noticed a change.

He had just placed their order when he felt her hand upon his arm.

He turned and she smiled at him and then the waiter.

"While the beef does sound lovely, I'm not sure I'm quite up to something that heavy yet. I think the chicken a la Maryland would serve me better at the moment, thank you."

The waiter glanced quickly at him and he nodded and the man gave a short bow, "As the lady wishes," and moved to take the next order.

As the waiter moved on, Cal leaned towards her, "I think that may be the first time you've actually changed your order," he said, a slight questioning tone to his voice.

She leaned back towards him, bringing their heads quite close together, close enough that he could feel the small puff of her breath as she spoke.

"Truly? Then either your psychic skills are waning or I'm a pushover," she said playfully.

Was she joking? To him?

He felt himself smirking reluctantly back at her, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. His glance passed over her face and he knew his own eyes had darkened with the sudden urge he felt to kiss her laughing lips.

Instead, he drawled lazily, "You? A pushover? I've been trying to push you over for an age now and yet you're stalwart as a marble Venus. And my psychic skills have never been on the mark where you are concerned."

He watched, lips parting in surprise as her own eyes darkened and a teasing smirk twisted her lips, "And what are your psychic skills telling you now, Mr. Hockley?"

"I'm not sure if that is appropriate conversation for the dinner table, Miss Bukater."

Her eyes bore a devilish glint now, "You know, a marble statue is quite libel to break when you push it over if you don't push it onto something soft.."

"Have you any suggestions then," he asked, his own eyes sparkling wickedly with humor, quite enjoying the riposte of the conversation…and its rather double entendre nature.

"Any number of things would do I suppose, providing they offer appropriate cushioning. A mattress, a sofa, a large bush.."

He laughed sharply, delightedly, the loud sound drawing the attention of the table towards them.

"Something must be quite amusing, to cause our Mr. Hockley to carry on so," Ruth said amusedly.

He smiled beatifically at her, "Simply enjoying a conversation with my lovely bride-to-be."

"Ahh, young love, eh," said Col. Gracie.

The table occupants exchanged indulgent smiles with one another as Rose blushed a lovely rose red.

Yes indeed. Something was most definitely different about Rose.


	8. Chapter 8

_So here we go folks, chapter 8! I just want to say a big THANK YOU to all of you who have taken the time to review and favorite and follow this story. I appreciate all your comments and encouragement and am glad to know I am not the only one out there who thought Cal wasn't as bad as they tried to make him seem!_

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Rose was enjoying herself immensely. She had eaten the best meal she could ever remember having, with interesting people, in a to-die-for gorgeous dress and sitting next to her to-die-for gorgeous fiancé.

Their earlier conversation had been great fun. Conversing with such heavy innuendo was a new experience for her. She wasn't sure what had prompted her to try teasing Cal so. However, the results had been well worth it. That lazy grin he had turned on her after the table noticed his laughing….just the thought alone was enough to set her blushing again.

They had both, after that, turned their attention to food and the other occupants of the table,Rose becoming entranced in a story a Col. Gracie was relating, a rather interesting tale he said he had included in one of his books. Rose made a mental note to see if she could find one later.

After dinner, Col. Gracie had graciously offered to escort Ruth to her rooms as Rose had wanted to take a turn outside on the Promenade Deck. She and Cal had strolled leisurely along, Rose avidly taking in everything she saw and Cal avidly taking in Rose. They chatted a bit as they walked and Cal was amazed, yet again, with how freely Rose conversed and behaved in his company. It was almost as if another person had taken residence in her. There was none of the stiltedness and awkward uncomfortableness that had come to define their relations in the past weeks. Cal, for his part, was quite reveling in a Rose that actually seemed to enjoy his company.

As he was certainly enjoying hers.

Rose stifled a yawn and Cal immediately suggested they return indoors so she could rest. Rose did not wish to but he insisted. She had been injured earlier and he did not wish to overtax her. Rose laughed at that but gave in. They made their way in by way of the Lounge. Rose tried to keep herself from staring at everything about her but it was difficult. It was all so beautiful. As she was observing everything, she spied the large, ornate bookcase and the books it housed. With a small gasp of delight, she tugged Cal in that direction.

Once there, she began to peruse the titles.

"Books? I didn't even know you could read," he teased.

"Ha very ha. As a matter of fact, I love to read, and, if I must rest, a book in bed seems the ideal way," Rose replied, unbothered by his sarcastic teasing. She had gathered during the course of the afternoon that it just seemed to be his way.

Cal could think of any number of things he'd rather do in bed but none of those would be particularly restful and he truly did think she needed to recover a bit more.

And he was actually rather surprised to see Rose perusing the book titles with every sign of deep interest. He had never seen her show the slightest interest in reading, although it was a favorite hobby of his own. He eyed the titles himself while watching to see what she favored.

Rose selected a volume of Shakespeare's sonnets and then gave a delighted gasp at spotting The Emerald City of Oz. She grabbed it eagerly, having read and enjoyed it as a child. She turned to Cal to see him reach forward and pull something from the shelves himself. She looked to see what he had and was surprised to see The Count of Monte Cristo…in French.

She looked up at him, to find him gazing down at her, a bemused expression on his face.

"Is it written in French as well," she queried.

He gave the book a quick flip, "Apparently yes."

Her brows arched nearly into her hairline, "You know French?"

He smirked at her and replied in perfect French, "Why does the idea seem to surprise you?"

Rose was delighted. She had always enjoyed languages and she and her mother had learned several for fun when she was younger. She loved to study new things. In fact, it was one of the things that had helped her get her scholarship and had also often gotten her made fun of in school. She herself knew French, German and Spainsh and had been trying to learn Russian in her spare moments.

She smirked back at him and answered, also in perfect French, "My dear, so many things about you surprise me."

He was arrested for a moment, yet again taken by surprise by her casual use of endearment towards him. He was quite positive it was the first time she had ever referred to him so.

Satisfied with her book choices and with the slightly gobsmacked expression on Cal's face, she took his arm and began walking back to their rooms.

She was discovering that he really was too easy at times.

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They had spent a surprisingly pleasant afternoon. They had conversed in French the rest of the way back to the rooms. Cal had been rather astonished at her fluency. Every well-bred miss was supposed to be able to speak French, although most only did so with passable ability. Rose had expressed a similar surprise at his own ability with the language. It was not as common a requirement for men but Cal's mother had insisted he learn languages along with his sister, a fact for which he had been quite grateful in later years. Therefore he was fluent in French as well as German. He had also taken an interest in his maternal grandmother's native Irish Gaelic and had attempted to learn it as well. His grandmother had been quite happy to help him and he recalled many a moment with her attempting to learn the, to him, rather difficult tongue. She had teased him by saying he had passable skill for a Sassenach bred boy. He had more or less given it up after she had passed.

When they arrived, Rose had retired to her room and he had shed his jacket and loosened his tie, settling down in one of the more comfortable chairs to peruse his own book. It had been awhile since he had read it, even longer since he had read it in French and he wanted to take his time.

Not more than 30min later Rose had returned to the room, a loose and flowing dressing gown about her. As thoroughly covered as she was it still gave him a start to see her so informally clothed. She drifted over to the settee, curling herself into its corner and smiling over at him sheepishly.

"I know that you wanted me to rest in bed but I simply couldn't get my eyes to shut," she offered him another small smile and gestured to her book, "I thought perhaps a change of scenery would help..and since I am sitting I am resting…sort of."

He offered her a small grin as he said it didn't bother him at all and she grinned back at him as she opened her book and turned back to it, settling herself even further into the sofa and tucking her feet up under her like a child.

He found himself as engrossed with sneaking looks at her as he was with his own story.

She chewed her lip when she became engrossed in the book and cuddled down against the pillow in her corner. She furrowed her brow from time to time, as if something she read was displeasing to her. He wanted to ask her about it but was loath to break their peaceful and oddly domestic spell. He determinedly turned his attention to his own book and attempted to sink himself into the well-known and liked story.

The next time he looked over, she was sound asleep, head propped rather awkwardly on the side of the sofa and her book in imminent danger of hitting the floor.

He got up and rescued the book then turned back to her.

She looked vastly uncomfortable.

He pondered a moment and then bent down and scooped her up. Rose was tall for a female but still relatively light for all that and he was well able to carry her into her stateroom and deposit her upon the bed. She rolled to her side, curling like a small child and he smiled down at her for a moment.

She really was quite adorable at times.

He pulled the small lap robe from the end of the bed and draped it over her lower half then let himself out of the room. She needed to rest and he didn't trust himself not to do something to thoroughly wake her if he stayed there for too much longer.


	9. Chapter 9

_I am so glad to note there are people out there enjoying this story! We Cal/Rose shippers may be few, but we do exist! Hope you enjoy this next installment and, if so, drop me a line. I am always up for constructive criticism and working to improve my hobby. Love to you all and here we go!_

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Rose came awake stretching and yawning when she heard someone bustling about. She opened her eyes to see Trudy, busily whisking to and fro and laying things out. She caught sight of Rose waking and grinned.

"Evening miss. You're just in time to start getting ready for dinner."

Rose blinked in shock.

"What time is it?"

"Just gone 5pm, ma'am," Trudy replied.

Rose couldn't believe she had fallen asleep at all and said as much.

"Well miss, if you don't mind me to say so, you have been through an awful lot today."

Rose couldn't deny the truth of that and proceeded to get up, stretching and yawning and again noting the oddness of doing so in a body that sometimes didn't feel quite yet like her own…as well as the oddness of waking up in the bed. The last memory she had was sitting reading on the settee in the outer room with Cal.

He must have moved her to the bedroom. Rose could feel a faint blush of pleasure steal over her at the thought.

Trudy had bathwater already drawn up and so Rose stepped into the bathing room, sinking down into the luxurious heat of it with a sigh. Alone in the room, Rose took the opportunity to really look at herself, taking note of birthmarks and the myriad differences of this body and the one she felt like she should be in. She could no longer quite remember it but felt that it was a good bit different from this one.

She admired her long legs and graceful feet, running her hands over everything she could reach as she washed and took note (with some horror) of the hair on her legs. Why she felt they should be smooth shaven she again could not quite recall but was equally dismayed to find hair under her arms. However, she could not deny she was definitely a true redhead.

As she stepped from the tub, she caught sight of herself in the small mirror over the washbasin and was again struck by the strangeness of seeing the reflection she now saw as opposed to whatever it was she was previously.

When she emerged from the bathing room, Trudy was ready and helped her dress, although she insisted on donning her undergarments while Trudy turned her back. Rose was also pondering if there was any way to wear her garments without having to don the awful corset. Granted, it made her stand straight and look wonderful in her clothing but it was _so_ uncomfortable…

Finally, she was ready. Trudy stuck a few more pins in her hair and pronounced her lovely, for which Rose gave her a grateful smile and told her to eat a good supper and not wait up for her. Trudy gave her a mischievous smile at that (to which Rose just rolled her eyes) and wished her a good night.

When Rose stepped into the sitting room, both Cal and Rose's (her) mother were waiting for her. Rose caught her breath a bit at the splendid way Cal looked in his evening attire. He smiled over at her and asked if she were feeling better. She affirmed that she was and then greeted her mother. It was strange to recognize someone as her mother and yet have the feeling of another mother there in the back of her mind. This woman was as different as daylight to dark from the one who danced on the fringes of her mind. Rose tried to shake it off and stepped forward as Cal offered both ladies his arms and they proceeded to dinner.

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This meal was quite a bit more intimidating than luncheon had been. Rose found herself pleased that Cal stayed beside her as many of the people they mingled with before the meal, and during, she did not know except what she remembered from books. It was amazingly overwhelming. Everything was so beautiful and here she was, talking with people she knew from history but had no firsthand knowledge of. Cal seemed to sense her disorientation and, accrediting it to her earlier fall, stayed with her, smoothing the waters so to speak with charm and deflection. She was by equal turns grateful and impressed. He was very suave…and very good at guiding or turning a conversation in the direction he wanted it to go, apparently without the other person being aware at all of how well they were being manipulated.

She was pretty sure he must be an awesome card player…and a terrifyingly good businessman to boot.

The meal itself was an education. She racked her brain, putting to use every one of those table manners lessons her mother had drilled into her, as well as some of the more esoteric seeming knowledge she had gleaned from the novels she used to read. The food itself was like a poem of gustatory perfection and she relished every bit while simultaneously trying not to seem a pig. It was rather difficult.

Even so, no one around her seemed to notice anything amiss, although quite a few had inquired as to whether she was feeling better. She each time affirmed that she was indeed feeling quite recovered although still a bit disoriented at odd moments, hoping against hope that the explanation would help to cover for any strange behaviors or 'memory lapses' she might evince.

All in all, she was deeply relieved when the meal was over and the men stood to dismiss themselves to the smoking room. She felt momentarily piqued that, because she was a woman, she would not get a chance to see that room of the ship. She was deeply determined to get a look at as much as she could as it was literally, a once in a lifetime chance.

Cal then broke her reverie by bending beside her and asking if she would like to go back to the room. She took the chance with alacrity to get away and regroup so stood and grasped his offered arm. Ruth had elected to stay and converse with a small group of particular female acquaintances, but there were several other men escorting their ladies toward the grand staircase.

As they passed thru the reception room, Rose caught sight of something she hadn't noticed before, although seeing it now she could not understand how she could have _not_ seen it.

It was a beautiful Steinway, Rose drifted toward it like one in a dream, pulling loose from her escort as he had stopped to speak with someone. Rose let her hand float over it, touching the beautiful inlays and engravings and drifting across the keys. It had been a while since she had played but her fingers itched to test themselves on this lovely instrument.

"My dear, do you play," one of the older ladies who had dined with them, she couldn't quite remember who, asked.

"Yes, but it has been a bit since I last tried.."

"Oh, music after dinner is so lovely! Why don't you try to play something for us?"

Another lady who had casually meandered in their direction agreed, "Indeed, dear. Do favor us with a tune."

Thus importuned, Rose agreed. She also agreed within herself that she probably would have done it anyway just for the chance to touch it. She sat, and played a few notes, noticing that it was in perfect tune. She paged a moment thru her memory (noting how strange it was that, while she couldn't remember what she should look like, she could remember not only how to play but several pieces to play as well) and selected a tune.

She set her hands to the keys and began to play. She was a bit hesitant at first but, as she warmed to what she was doing and relaxed, she began to play with more confidence. Soon, she was lost in the music, one song bleeding into the next.

Rose had enjoyed music as a child. Her mother had played piano and Rose had been fascinated watching her mother's fingers fly across the upright that had sat in their living room. Her mother had taught her the basics and had sent her to classes once a week when she was older to learn what she couldn't teach. Rose had taken to it like a duck to water. She had never had many friends growing up, being too smart and too unwilling to compromise herself to fit in well, so it had served as an outlet for her. Just as learning languages had served as an outlet for intelligence, music was her outlet for her emotions and creativity.

She picked an older tune her mother had favored and began to sing, surprised to hear her voice ring out high and true as she had been expecting a deeper tone to her singing voice. Nevertheless, she was glad to realize she _could_ still sing.

She let the song flow to a gentle end and was surprised when she heard the loud sound of applause. She came back to herself and looked around to note she had drawn quite a crowd, all of which were applauding her performance.

Her eyes sought out Cal in the crowd and she was disconcerted to note the paleness of his complexion and the wide -eyed, haunted stare with which he regarded her. Unsure of what she had done or even if she was the cause of his apparent unease, she stood from the piano and gave a small curtsey. This seemed to be the right thing for the assembly began to break apart, many coming forward to say something about her lovely performance. She smiled and thanked and hopefully said all the right things as she made her way to Cal, who strangely enough, was making no effort to come to her but was still frozen where he was at, staring at her as if he did not know who she was. _Could he suspect? Had he figured out that she was not the Rose he knew?_

She didn't know how to feel about that. On the one hand, she desperately wanted him to know that she was not the same woman, wanted him to really _see_ her. On the other however, was the risk of his response if he did know. Would he hate her? Demand to know where _his_ Rose was at? Demand that she bring her back, as if she even knew how?

When she reached his side, the strange spell seemed to break and he greeted her with a comment about the superiority of her playing, as several of the gentlemen around him were doing as well. She smiled and thanked them, made a few comments about how fond she was of music and took Cal's arm as a subtle signal she wished to leave. He seemed to understand and graciously excused them.

As they walked away, Cal said softly, "Would you care to walk for a bit or are you tired?"

"A walk sounds lovely but would it not be too cold?"

Cal motioned to a nearby porter and sent him off to their rooms for their coats. They were not the only ones wishing to take a turn out of doors and they chatted amiably with another, older couple who were also awaiting warmer wear.

The man returned in an amazingly short amount of time with their outerwear and deferentially helped them on. They politely parted company with the other couple and strolled their way to the outer deck. It was cold, with a brisk wind and Rose huddled into her coat thankful for its warmth even as she lifted her face into the wind. Cal tugged her slightly closer into his side and she went gratefully, taking full advantage of his warmth and larger profile to block some of the air.

"Is it too cold," he asked concernedly.

"It's cold but not unbearable," she answered, "And just look how the stars are reflecting in the water!"

Cal turned his gaze outward and, sure enough, it was as if a mirror image of the sky had been painted upon the water, only with such brilliance as no artist save God himself could emulate. It was quite beautiful…as was the woman staring so avidly out toward it.

He guided them over to the railing, the better to obtain an unobstructed view. Rose leaned out, looking down and then casting her gaze all around.

"Oh, Cal, it's so beautiful, like a painting but one only God could manage."

He started hard at how uncannily her words had echoed his own thoughts.

His jerk brought her attention back around to him.

"Are you cold? Do we need to go in?"

"No,no, I'm fine," he assured her, "and you're right, it is quite beautiful. As beautiful as the 'night of cloudless climes and starry skies'."

She grinned up at him, "and all that's best of dark and bright."

He spoke with her as she finished the line, "meet in her aspect and her eyes. Indeed, they do," he whispered, hand reaching to brush back a wisp of her hair that had loosened in the crisp breeze coming off the water.

He stared at her in the moonlight.

"Who are you Rose? I thought I knew but it's almost like you hit your head and woke up this whole other person," he whispered.

"Am I so very different then," she asked, frowning. She turned her eyes back to the water and seemed to ponder. He studied her pensive expression a moment before speaking.

"Yes…and no," it was his turn to frown as he slowly drew his fingers down her face, "but I like this Rose. This Rose who talks and laughs and actually seems to like me as opposed to the one who can barely stand my presence," he stopped with his fingers laid lightly against her throat and swallowed hard, sure he had just said too much.

Her voice broke the cold stillness of the air around them.

"Maybe…maybe, I'm not the Rose you know. Maybe I _am_ a whole other person," she whispered back, turning again to stare up at him with eyes as darkly luminous as the waters below.

Rose frowned as she looked up at Cal. She had no idea of what had gone on before beyond that which the maid Trudy had been able to tell her but she could see the genuine pain and insecurity, as well as sincerity, that seemed to hover around him like an aura. She wished she could know the circumstances surrounding the previous Rose and Cal because she had no way to judge what her reactions should be in this situation. Whether the other Rose would come back or not, she did not want to damage things further than they apparently already had been before she came.

Right now, she only knew what she wanted to do, and she prayed that it would be enough.

She reached up, her gloved hands cupping his face.

"You are very likable Cal," she said firmly, her eyes then softening a bit in sorrow, "and I am so, so sorry if you've been hurt by anything that passed before. All I can say is that it is not my intention to do so now."

"We're getting married," she continued thoughtfully, a small smile hovering over her lips, "I would hope that we _could_ talk and laugh and enjoy each other's presence else the next 50 years are going to be quite intolerable."

She watched in amazement thru her little speech as his eyes caught a spark and began to glow nearly as bright as the stars above. A small smile had hovered around his mouth and with every word she spoke seemed to gain intensity.

"You are quite right my dear," he said softly. He slid his hands up and gently grasped her own, pulling them down from his face. He held them a moment as they gazed steadily at one another, then looked down and kissed each hand, very gentleman-like, before straightening and tucking her near side hand into the crook of his elbow.

Rose shot him a glance as he started to walk, unsure of just what his response meant.

However, she decided not to press the issue but simply enjoy the moment as they slowly walked the entire circuit in companionable silence before making their way back to the suite.


	10. Chapter 10

_So…here's where we start amping up the rating. If you are not of age, please stop now as I don't wish to be responsible for your sexual education. That's yo mama's job._

 _As for the rest of you, please read responsibly and REVIEW!_

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As they made their way into the sitting room of their suite, neither was quite ready to part yet could not think of an appropriate way to say so. Rose took the initiative and, with a small smile and a quiet goodnight, slipped off to her room.

Cal retired to his own stateroom, shucked his overcoat and relievedly divested himself of his evening wear in favor of nightclothes and a warm robe. He was reluctant to admit but he was a bit chilled from their moonlit turn around Titanic's decks. Not that he would have traded that time for anything but all his extremities were numb…and he was anything but ready for sleep.

Deciding on a dose of brandy to banish the chill and possibly a few pages in his book, he stepped out to the sitting room where both were likely to be found.

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Rose swallowed hard as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was getting harder to remember that this wasn't actually her own body, her own life. The soft gaslight threw gentle shadows over her that seemed to make her hair and dress sparkle in the low light…and she wondered, not for the first time, if this moment in time was a temporary gift.

Perhaps an answer to a dying plea, a chance to know love….possibly her only chance. For all she knew, this day may be all that she was granted. One, beautiful day to experience what she never had the chance to in her own time and world. That the chance seemed to be with a man she had only known from a picture seemed odd but she could not deny the overwhelming feelings she had for him. She wondered if some of it was the original Rose's as well. She again could not understand why the Rose she had apparently switched with was so unhappy. She had everything that she herself could imagine wanting.

Not least of which was a man in another room close by whom she knew desired her very much.

Rose closed her eyes, wondering if there was anything inherently immoral about taking another woman's fiancé to her bed when she was wearing the woman's body.

She was pretty sure there were no rules for that in the books.

And she could not deny she wanted him…badly.

She didn't know whether or not he and Rose had already been intimate but could not deny to herself that she wanted the chance to be with him, at least once. But what she truly wanted was to be the one to stay, here, in this time. She hadn't been here 24hours but she knew she felt more at home here than she ever had in her own time. Whether that was due to her disposition or the man she left in the sitting room with whom she felt such connection or a combination of things, she did not know.

She looked at herself in the sumptuous evening gown in the full length cheval mirror and knew intrinsically that, whatever decisions she made from here on would fundamentally change things.

Staring at that other Rose's face in the mirror, she knew there was only one choice now she wanted to make.

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Cal stared heavily into the dark depths of the glass in his hand as he sat sprawled in the settee of the sitting room, having been utterly unable to focus on his book once he had warmed up and allowed his mind to relax.

He was in a quandary.

Rose's earlier comments were swirling in his head, most particularly the one.

 _Maybe I am not the Rose you know._

He was truly beginning to wonder if there were not some truth to that assertion.

Her behavior all day, ever since her fall earlier, had been completely different.

And while he had been enamored of her for awhile now, today was the first time he had truly felt as if his regard was in any way returned, felt as if he were being given a chance to truly show her himself and have her open up and let him see her as she was.

It had given him hope, hope that she might in time see him as something more than a necessary encumbrance, the husband she might need but didn't necessarily want.

And it also added a deeper layer to his regard for her. He truly _liked_ this Rose. She was no less charming and witty and intelligent but added to that was kindness to temper the wit and humor and layers of depth that had hitherto been inaccessible…at least to him.

However, it was her performance upon the piano after dinner that had truly shaken him.

Too many times could he remember Rose demurring to perform for company due to her less than stellar skills upon the instrument. And now, tonight, she had played and sang effortlessly. Like it was no trouble at all.

He threw back the liquor in his glass and refilled it from the decanter on the nearby side table.

He was frankly terrified of the implications of ascribing any real truth to her troubling statement.

But he couldn't deny what he had experienced…and it was not the Rose he had come to know over the past few months.

And yet, he still desired her…in point of fact, desired her even more than before. This Rose was everything he had wanted to believe she was, everything he had been hoping for when he decided to offer for her. This Rose made him believe that maybe, just perhaps, they could grow to be something more than just fond of one another…and he was surprised by the deep throb of longing that thought sparked in him.

Just then, the door to her stateroom opened and he looked up to see her framed in the doorway, hair down and gloves and jewelry removed.

She smiled, shyly, "You're still up. I'm glad. I was wondering if you might assist me.."

"With what," he asked, a slight rasp to his voice.

"Trudy was sleeping so soundly…I hate to disturb her," she looked away for a moment, missing the sudden thrumming tension that shot thru him, tensing him like a bowstring and causing him to clench his hand upon his glass with white knuckled intensity.

She looked back at him, taking a visible deep breath, "I was wondering if you would mind to help me with my dress…I can't quite reach the fastening.."

He swallowed, hard, and forced himself to relax his hold on his glass.

"Of course, my dear."

He hoped his voice didn't sound as strained to her as it did to him.

He stood, placing his glass on the table and she turned, leading the way back into her room. She stopped near the dressing table and gathered her hair to one side, her eyes watching him thru the glass as he came up behind her. As he stepped close and reached for the back of her dress, she dropped her eyes and closed them.

He leaned in close, feeling the heat of her as the sweet scent of her lilac perfume wafted around him in heady swirls.

He suddenly felt drunk, and knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol he'd been consuming earlier.

He took his time, as much to hide the slight shaking of his hands as to savor the moment. Finally though, he reached the end and told her, the husky tenor of his voice evidence of his current feeling.

She held the gown up by the front as she looked up at him in the mirror, eyes wide and dark and luminous in the soft light.

"You..you'll have to do the corset as well," she said, her own voice choked and slightly breathless.

 _Dear God, she was killing him._

He wondered if she had any idea what she was asking, what she was doing, how she affected him standing there like that, her state of dishabille a wanton siren song that he desperately wanted to answer.

Silently, he began to undo the laces of her corset, the only sound in the room the gentle soughing of their breathing.

As he finished, he could not stop himself from reaching up, clasping her lovely, pale shoulders and slowly gliding the fingers of his right hand up then down the back of her neck and across the gentle slope of her back. She shuddered, eyes closing as she tipped her head to the side, both a silent plea and an offering. Her hands dropped to her sides and the precariously situated gown fell to pool lavishly at her feet. Her corset fell downward as well, leaving her covered only in the sheer material of her chemise.

Cal inhaled sharply as he was impaled with a stab of lust so sharp it nearly doubled him over.

He shut his eyes, feeling the fine tremor within him as she leaned back into him. His hand was still on her shoulder and he felt her move, reaching up to grasp his hand with her own. He opened his eyes and nearly moaned aloud when she met them in the mirror and brought his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to the sensitized flesh of his palm. She held his hand there and turned her face, nuzzling his hand like a kitten and he felt his knees weaken as his breath began to rasp heavily in his chest.

 _God, he wanted her!_

He dropped his other hand, splaying it across her stomach, pressing her back into him, forcing her to acknowledge the proof of what she was doing to him. She shuddered again, hard, and simply melted into him, her hand that had done such wanton things to his own letting go and rising up to wrap itself around his neck, her fingers tunneling themselves into his hair. The image she presented in the mirror, arched back with her lovely breasts pressed forward, nipples large and dusky beneath their drape of fine linen, was his undoing.

He turned her swiftly, covering her mouth with his own with a desperate hunger. Her arms snaked around his shoulders and neck, as she grasped his hair, tugging him closer and opening herself to his kiss, returning his ardor with her own ferociously, moaning into his mouth and making him drunker still with the power of his own desire.

He pulled her closer, hands roaming now of their own volition over the planes of her body. He broke away, breathing deeply and pressing, frantic, hungry kisses down the line of her neck and across her chest as she tried to meld herself to his body, a litany of affirmation falling from her lips.

He grasped her head with one hand, staring at her with his hot, heavy gaze as she opened her eyes, her own gaze heavy-lidded and glazed with desire.

"Tell me you want this Rose," he swallowed hard, "I need to hear you say it."

She gazed back at him, her own hand drifting upward to delicately cup his cheek, "Yes…Cal. I want this…I want _you._ "

He closed his eyes, a sharp huff of triumphant laughter escaping him as he clasped her head in both hands, his forehead falling to rest gently against her own.

They stood, pressed together for an eternal moment before he bent down and swept her up and turned determinedly toward the large bed.


	11. Chapter 11

_Sorry for the delay in posting. It's been rather hectic with school starting back. And to clarify a point, while I do write about sex, I try to keep it classy so there are no in detail descriptions of Cal and Rose 'gettin nasty'. So no true lemons, only limes. I try to keep it where those without much experience and/or knowledge can read it without feeling uncomfortable. However, for the sexually uninitiated, this could be somewhat of an eyeopener so I try to warn appropriately. Better safe than sorry works for stories just as much as prophylactics. :)_

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Rose was curled on her side, sleeping and having the most fantastic dream when she came awake suddenly to the delicious sensation of being filled most intimately from behind. She could feel Cal pressed up close behind her and it was his hand upon her causing the lovely sensations her sleeping mind had interpreted as butterfly wings. She arched into a stretch automatically, driving him deeper within, eliciting a gasp from herself and him as well before that most ancient of rhythms overtook them and drove them both to a shuddering end. He gave a deep, almost guttural sound as she whined softly, her body shaking as she gasped his name. He clutched her closer and buried his face in her hair, overcome with the feelings surging and ebbing within him.

As they slowly came down, Rose reflected that she quite enjoyed this new way of waking up, eliciting a low chuckle from her bed partner. As he withdrew she turned, draping herself against his side as he repositioned them so he could wrap both arms around her. She covered her mouth as she yawned and wondered aloud what time it was.

"Still quite early actually," Cal said as he lifted his head to observe the ornate clock on the mantle. "Only 6:42."

"Hmmm, so someone's obviously an early riser," Rose observed cheekily, her hand drifting downward to add extra emphasis to her meaning.

He laughed in shocked surprise and hugged her closer, more startled by her risqué humor than he would have supposed.

"Well, this morning was offering some very tempting breakfast options."

He felt her laughing against him and was quite unexpectedly hit with a feeling of contentment.

This… _this_ was what he had wanted. What he had envied in his sister's relationship without even really knowing what it was.

Companionship. Belonging. A sense of ease and rightness just in being with each other.

He had struggled yesterday trying to place his finger on just exactly what it was that felt different when they were together and now was able to place it.

And it wasn't just the sex, although that had far surpassed his expectations. She had responded to him with a depth of passion and desire that had shocked him as much as it had pleased him. It had set him on fire with the need to drive them both higher and hotter and she had met him, step for step, in a way which he had never expected or experienced but knew that he couldn't do without now that he had.

But it was something else as well. He could see, could _sense_ , that she had opened herself to him in a way she previously had not. Before, while they might have been together, she was utterly closed to him. And try as he might, he could not find the key to getting Rose to let him in, in to her thoughts, her feelings, her heart. She had shut him out as surely and fully as if she had walled herself away in a tower…like Rapunzel, something he could see and hear and desire but totally unreachable. Unlike Rapunzel's prince however, she refused to throw him any means of getting to her. Until now.

This Rose he was discovering was as unexpected as she was delightful and he was completely enchanted. He still was unsure what had brought about this utter sea change in her sensibilities, (he blocked out the utterly insane ideas he had been considering the previous evening)but he thanked any god that might be listening, adding a whole hearted plea that it would not be a temporary change.

"Speaking of breakfast, I'm quite hungry. Do you think they are serving this early," Rose propped her head up on her hand, the better to see him.

He arched an eyebrow at her, "Darling, we can be served whenever we wish."

She smiled, "hmmm, darling. You know, I really do prefer the sound of that to sweet pea."

"Then darling it is."

She wrinkled her brow and said in mock consternation, "Oh dear, but, whatever shall I call you," she then grinned wickedly, "perhaps I shall take to calling _you_ sweet pea…"

His face grew solemn as he drew her down closer, "You can call me whatever you please, _when_ ever you please…" he rumbled lowly.

She whispered against his lips, "Then right now, I guess I'll just call you mine."

They missed breakfast but made it in time for brunch.

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Ruth observed her daughter and her fiance as they all sat at table. She noticed the small touches and secret smiles, the oh so slight extra attention Cal extended to her daughter, the hand that lingered just that bit too long against her back, the lingering (and hungry) look he cast upon her when Rose's attention was diverted to Mr. Andrews talk of the ship.

Most particularly though, the lack of strained tension between the two.

She grinned inside where no one could see. She was almost certain he had finally had her. While Ruth was a rigid stickler for propriety for many things, this slight detour of morals could only but be of benefit to them. It had not passed her notice how strained the relations between her daughter and her daughter's fiancé had become lately. Rose could be quite trying when she wished and she had been pushing her credit with him quite hard as of late. Ruth did not know where the problem lay or why Rose had been so discontented recently and had tried to play the buffer when Rose's fractiousness and Cal's temper had threatened to spark a firestorm between them. It had gotten to the point where, as much as she suspected Cal cared for Rose, she wondered if the foolish girl would end up causing him to call off the whole thing.

However, Cal was too much the gentleman to renege on his proposal after he had lain with Rose. She was positive of that much…and Ruth prided herself on being a keen judge of character.

It was one of the reasons she had pushed this match to her daughter so heavily. Rose was so young, so headstrong…she needed a firm hand to keep her from dashing herself against the rocks of destruction.

Cal had seemed the ideal candidate. Young enough to suite and handsome enough to tempt any woman (Lord knows she occasionally felt a flutter around him, even at her age!) he was also well-funded enough to keep her daughter in the comfort to which she had been born. Upon further inspection she had found him to be serious, an able manager and agent of his father's businesses, set to inherit said businesses and a prodigious fortune to boot and not given to excesses of drink or gambling or whoring, which had ruined many a man (and unknowing woman), as she well knew.

When she had discovered his interest in Rose, she had worked prodigiously hard to secure that interest, ensuring they were in each others company as often as possible by making sure they attended all the same functions and prodding Rose toward her best, most charming behavior.

She simply could not fathom why Rose had seemed so disinterested in him. Ruth knew her daughter and was well acquainted with her penchant for cutting off her nose to spite her face when she got in a pique about something. She had notions of adventure and romance that, while not uncommon to her age, would surely spell disaster for her if she did not learn to put it aside before she was past marriageable age. She was sure (hoping) that it was a trait she would eventually mature out of. And perhaps it was her and Henry's fault for spoiling and indulging her so but nevertheless, she wasn't sure that she would do so in time.

And so, she had developed her plan.

It had never been Ruth's intention for Rose to know the state of their finances…but in difficult times, needs must. Ruth knew Rose's disposition would make her all the more recalcitrant if she were blunt so it was a hint here, an accidentally dropped comment there and Rose was soon 'prizing' the truth from her 'reluctant' mother… that they were in need of her making a fine match, and the sooner the better. And so, Rose had looked around and opened her eyes and there had been Mr. Caledon Hockley, fine match extraordinaire.

A bit of extra charm on Rose's part, some well-timed and carefully dropped hints on Ruth's and the deal was done. Mr. Hockley had been captured hook, line and sinker. Ruth felt no guilt for this. It was simply the way of the world. Caledon would gain a wife of impeccable breeding, beauty and fortune. Rose would gain the steadying influence of a husband old enough and grounded enough to contain her more fanciful flights and headstrong notions and would maintain the standing in society and life to which she was accustomed.

And, as Ruth continued to unobtrusively observe the interaction between the two, she might just find that her desire for romance could be well and truly filled with the man who was in front of her all along. As for that longing for adventure, well, a besotted (and rich) husband could indulge that wish most efficiently, if he desired…

Ruth did smile into her champagne flute, unable to hide her pleasure at how well things were working out.

"Mother, you're looking quite pleased. A penny for your thoughts," Rose inquired.

"Oh, nothing particular, my dear. This champagne is an excellent vintage, Mr. Ismay," she deflected, "may I ask the year?"

As easy as that, attention was diverted to another and another subject.

Yes, she was quite well pleased indeed.


	12. Chapter 12

_My apologies to all of you who have been waiting for an update to this story. Real Life decided to step up and be a bitch and before I knew it way too much time had passed I was like, FRAK! I GOTTA UPDATE! So to make up I am posting 2 chapters instead of one. Here is number 1 and I hope it is worthy. Reviews are always appreciated!_

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Rose considered the woman who was her 'mother'. She definitely wore an expression that utterly screamed 'the cat who ate the canary'. She had an unsettling feeling that it had to do with Cal and herself. She narrowed her eyes at her plate as she pondered. She herself had only met this woman twice and so far had yet to be impressed with any type of motherly feelings from her. Perhaps she was expecting too much as she remembered with warmth her own mother and reminded herself of the different time period and social structure. However, she couldn't deny that there was something about the woman that simply put her off.

The waiter just then asked her what she would like to eat and she started, not having yet considered her options. She glanced hastily at the menu and chose the first thing that seemed like a breakfast item as Cal chuckled quietly beside her.

"Distracted, dear? And here I thought you were famished," he said teasingly once the waiter had moved down table.

She looked back at him, "And so I am. It's hardly my fault that I was talked out of eating earlier."

"Is that what we were doing? Then I can honestly say I've never had such an enjoyable conversation before," he smirked before taking a drink from his water goblet.

"Pig," she said, with no real venom.

"Oink,oink, darling," he returned, eyes positively sparkling with repressed humor.

She _was_ quite famished now as Cal had successfully managed to turn her attention this morning from her more mundane appetite to a more carnal one. Just thinking about it sent a hot flush of desire and need tingling thru her again. The things they had done…

Rose, at 28, was by no means ignorant of lust. She had certainly dated, had even had a semi-steady boyfriend when she was 23. It had lasted about a year, long enough for her to explore sexuality and decide she definitely was _not_ in love or even lust with the man she was with. They had more or less amicably parted ways and she had determined to wait until she found someone she really wanted before she explored sex again. However, time passed and no one really did it for her.

And now…Cal.

She slanted a look in his direction to see him involved in a conversation with the man across the small table. God, just the sound of his _**voice**_ could make her squirm uncomfortably in desire. Something about that baritone rumble and his clipped way of speaking entranced her and gave her a definite need to fan herself. Her mind flashed instantly back to earlier, as that deep timbered voice had groaned harshly against her overhead skin and the way he sounded when they..

"Rose, are you all right my dear? You are looking rather flushed," Ruth's voice in a quiet aside broke jarringly into her reverie, startling her so hard she jumped. She shot a look to that woman, noting the amused gleam in her eyes and mumbled something about being a bit too warm, took a quick sip of her water and excused herself from the table for a moment.

Cal looked up as Rose suddenly excused herself and left the table, then cast an inquiring look to Ruth.

That redoubtable woman simply raised her brows and her glass, "A bit overheated, I believe," she said blandly.

Molly Brown, who was seated across the table, snorted inelegantly into her own glass, "I'll say," then had the temerity to look over at Cal and give him a lascivious wink.

He blinked in shock and looked after Rose, who was just stepping out the door of the salon to the outer decks.


	13. Chapter 13

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Rose ambled her way over to the railing as the gentle sea breeze cooled her overheated mind and cheeks. The area she was at was overlooking the vast spaces of the rest of the ship. It was so large…it was hard to think this would all be at the bottom of the sea in a few short days.

It hit her then like the proverbial ton of bricks.

The ship would sink.

Everything she had seen, would be destroyed. Everyone she had met, may all be soon to die. _She_ , this person she had become, could be soon to die. _And Cal_ _…_

While she had been focused on her own self and feelings, everything around her was progressing to certain doom.

She looked out at all the people milling around on her deck and the lower decks and felt her heart plummet within her to think that many of them would soon be dead. What could she do?Could she even do anything? It was yet to happen yet, it had _already_ happened. Theories on the nature of time flashed through her mind. The Butterfly Effect, cosmic strings, the Grandfather Paradox. She could be breaking time just by being here. Or maybe she always had been here? Rose chewed pensively on her lip. Could she even save herself? Or, at least, the her she currently was? Or was this person, this Rose whose life she possessed, meant to die on this ship? Would she change things irreparably if she tried to save herself or anyone else?

But how could she not? The questions nearly overwhelmed her as she stared out over the sea of people on the deck below.

These people around her were living, moving ghosts, their lives already written in her history….they just didn't know it yet.

Tears filled her eyes as they scanned over all those many people…then suddenly were arrested as she looked back into the eyes of a young man who was blatantly staring at her. _Really Rose, it_ _'_ _s too far away to know if he_ _'_ _s really staring at_ _ **you**_ _.._

The other men with him looked up at her and then just as quickly away, but the light-haired young man continued to look..

"Rose are you alright?", Cal came up behind her, hand to her back as he stepped to her side, becoming instantly concerned when he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

He frowned and gently turned her toward him. She looked up at him, a single tear wending its way down her cheek. His heart clenched in sudden anxiety. _What had happened to upset her so? And so suddenly?_

She reached up, palming away the evidence of her upset and gave him a sad smile.

"Just mourning for that which is lost."

He canted his head, not quite catching her meaning. _What could that mean? Was she thinking about last night? Did she regret what had happened between them? Was that what this was about?_

He swallowed against the sudden heavy lump in his throat. _Surely not._ His eyes couldn't help but search hers worriedly though. He felt faintly sick at the idea that she could be regretting their earlier intimacy…especially as it had been the best and most intense experience he had been party to in…well, ever.

Something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression as her face unexpectedly softened and she reached up, brushing her hand against his cheek with the briefest of caresses.

"This has nothing to do with us, Cal. Last night was the most wonderful, most beautiful thing I've ever experienced," she paused as if trying to organize her thoughts and he took the opportunity to try and calm his racing heart. He was unsure if it was racing due to his earlier anxiousness or to her words just now but either way, he was nearly shaking with reaction to the adrenaline shock of his skittering emotions.

"I could never, _will never_ regret being with you. In fact, I'm hoping to repeat the experience again sooner rather than later," she said with a hint of mischievous humor then sobered just as quickly.

"Perhaps its just me feeling overly emotional at the moment. Everything is so perfect and it makes me afraid. Because nothing stays perfect and I _know_ something is going to happen to destroy it and..," he stopped her then by the expedient of placing a finger gently against her lips, following it immediately with his own.

It was the briefest of kisses but he couldn't not kiss her after her declaration.

 _She didn't regret being with him. She wanted him still. It was perfect._ _ **She**_ _was perfect…_

His heart was still racing inside him but this time he didn't try to calm it. As he pulled back and looked down into her blue, blue eyes, he didn't dare hope to name what he saw shining back at him as love but, _God,_ if there was such a being watching and listening, he would do _anything, anything at all,_ to have her feel for him as he now suddenly knew he felt for her.

She suddenly smiled brilliantly up at him, "Mr. Hockley, I'm shocked at you! Such behavior! And in front of others! Shameless!" she teased.

He grinned hugely back at her, "Mrs. Hockley-to-be," he said as he turned them to walk back indoors, "I couldn't care less."


	14. Chapter 14

AUTHOR'S NOTE

To everyone who has reviewed and liked and followed this story, my sincere and humble thanks. I truly hadn't planned such a long hiatus but a series of unfortunate events entailing a computer crash that took the story notes and some unforeseen marital issues leading to a long, drawn out mess have finally been conquered. My broke ass was finally able to afford another computer to which I could start putting in all my notes that I tried to recall and write down on all the stories and other things I have been working on. I do have a plan for this story and am working to get it done. Having to rebuild from just what I had posted and what I could remember of how I want it to go (a feat since my memory is not the best) has been fun.

Bear with me and hang in there. Cal and Rose WILL NOT be left with no happy ending! I have lurved them too long!


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